Confessions of a Departed Huffie
by todd fan
Summary: ONESHOT Cedrics POV, as he talks about the people who mourned his death the most.


Confessions of a Departed Huffie

By Todd Fan

Disclaimer: "Remember, only the good die young"

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Wooo, TF does some Harry Potter fanfiction! Here's a Cedric Diggory POV, post mortem. I love Cedric, he's always been a favourite of mine, it's a shame he died. Poor Dead Ced.

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I always thought I'd grow old.

At seventeen, of course, growing old seems a billion years away. And death…death is something that happens to other people. At seventeen, I was wrong. At seventeen, I died.

"Ced", my father once said, "that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will, you beat Harry Potter"

Wrong on both accounts, Dad. I didn't live long enough to have children, let alone grandchildren…and secondly, I didn't beat Harry. Of course, I tried to explain to him the only reason I won that Quidditch game was because Harry fell off his broom, after being chased by Dementors, but he wouldn't have it. Too proud of 'his boy'.

I miss my father.

Dad has always been there for me. His only son, his only child, I guess it was inevitable he'd shower his affection on me. His immense pride was often wearing. It's hard being modest when you have someone crowing your achievements, however small they are. He's done that for as long as I remember. When I spoke my first word ('Daddy', incidentally). When I learned how to ride my kiddie-broomstick without stabilizing spells. When I made it into Hogwarts, and later a prefect, making the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, eventually becoming captain. All a long list of things for me to be modest about, and dad to be proud about. I guess we balanced each other out in that respect.

Nothing, however, nothing can compare to his pride when I was selected for the Triwizard tournament. It was like he'd won a billion galleons. Me, I just wanted to make my father proud, and bring some long-needed glory to my house. Well, I brought my the house of Helga Hufflepuff glory, alright, though in the form of a martyr, rather than a hero. As for my father, I don't know. I hope he's still proud of me, I failed, but yes, I do hope he think of me with pride. It's all I ever wanted from him.

My mother, she just let me be me. She knew I didn't like being in the limelight, she understood that all I wanted in life was to do some good in the world, make her and Dad proud. She'd often be there to calm Dad down when he went into one of his 'Pride Rants'. If Dad was the emotional one, she was the rational one.

I know she looked after Dad after I died….tried to soothe Harry, let him know it wasn't his fault. She really did become the family rock, though she had her own tears to shed, away from everyone else, so she didn't burden them with her own pain. I realised then I was a lot more like my mother than I ever realised in life. She's a great lady, I am proud to be her son. It is a deep regret of mine I never knew her as much as I should have, that's the problem, I guess, when both parties keep to themselves.

Of course, my mother wasn't the only lady in my life. Cho and I hadn't really been dating all that long when I died, but it was long enough. I know she had a hard time getting over my death. Our short time together really was something special. That sounds cheesy, something you'd hear in a muggle movie, but it's true. She's clever (no, duh, Ced, she's in Ravenclaw) and fair minded. Okay, I'll admit it, she's a little.. overemotional, but that never bothered me, I always thought it made her unique. She'll go far in this world, I'm sure of it. I heard she wants to avenge my death….I really hope she doesn't, I don't want anyone getting hurt in my name.

Speaking of which, I inevitably move onto Harry Potter. Out of every person effected by my death, Harry seems to have suffered the most. Outsiders might think this strange. Harry and I weren't all that close, more acquaintances than friends, often rivals in both Quidditch and later the Triwizard Tournament. But, unlike my parents, unlike Cho, Harry was there when I died. He saw it, that would be enough to make anyone feel terrible, let alone being fourteen at the time. I know Harry blamed himself for my demise. Survivors guilt, I believe it is called. I wish he'd understand, it was my choice to grab the cup with him, mine and mine alone. He had no idea what was waiting for us, no idea the cup was a portkey. One day, I hope he'll forgive himself, or even better, realise there's nothing to forgive.

I bet you're all wondering how I'm telling you this. Questioning what is there 'afterwards'. I can't tell you. I think it's different for all of us. Me, I'm…I'm behind the veil. I think that's where we go when we went before our time….when we had business on the mortal plane that was never, and would never be accomplished again. Don't take my word for it, though, I'm no philosopher. Sometimes, when he's taking a break from the office, Dad'll come to the Department of Mysteries and stand by the veil. Sometimes, he talks, sometimes, he cries….most of the time, he just stands there, stone faced and silent. Whatever he does, it breaks my heart every time. Oh yes, even a heart that stops beating can be broken. He is **so** close, I can see him, hear him, he is within arms reach, yet I cannot touch him. I can't bring him into a hug, I can't even tell him how much I love him, how I'm sorry I died, how I'm sorry he's like this now. I can't. It's like torture.

Do I wish I never died? Well, of course I do. I wanted to live. But it was not on the cards for me. I heard one of the centaurs of the forbidden forest say 'Always the Innocent are the First to Die'. I never really thought of myself as innocent, but I guess _that's_ what made me innocent. They're funny things, prophecies. You never really know they're about you until they've been carried out, at least partly, anyway. When it all comes down to it, Harry Potter gained his fame for being 'The Boy Who Lived'. Me, I'm 'The Boy Who Died'. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

I always thought I'd grow old.

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Awww man, that was sad. It was so sad to write, it took me 2 months. I had to do a bit at a time to avoid bumming myself out. Do review, and thanks for reading!


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